


Mutual Distraction In The Out-Of-Doors

by helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Bondage, Chess, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Painplay, Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Teasing, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik take the chessboard to the park.  The game on the board is the last thing on their minds by the end of the afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual Distraction In The Out-Of-Doors

It's a beautiful day; it was Erik's idea to take the chessboard to the park and play there, while the crowds mill around them and the breeze makes the leaves shift and whisper against each other.

The rustle of leaves is fairly loud, because as gorgeous as the weather is, it's also windy. Once upon a time, Charles brought home a magnetic chess set, thinking about windy days, and Erik laughed and laughed at him. The next day Erik brought home a set of metal pieces, and they played in bed, checkerboard handkerchief taped to the ceiling, calling the moves out aloud. Erik didn't drop a piece until Charles's hand was moving on his cock, speed bringing the motion up to a blur, other hand's fingers buried in Erik's ass and rocking up hard. A steel bishop to the shoulder was a small price to pay for the way Erik had gone a little addled afterward.

Today, they've got the roll-up chessboard and Erik's metal pieces, and the pieces stay in place, holding the vinyl board down. When one piece or another gets captured, they anchor the board with it along the edge.

And for the first dozen-and-some moves, Charles thinks he's got an advantage. Perhaps it's not playing entirely fairly, expecting Erik to hold down the pieces and the board, all while giving nothing away to the passers-by; there's nothing to give Charles the same sort of low-level distraction.

Well, maybe there is. After all, there's Erik. Erik's hands: his long fingers, his graceful motions, all that elegance over hard passion. Erik has the same kind of control over his own movements as he does over the chessboard; he's spent a lifetime honing his body so he could become--

\--never mind that; he's just pushed his queen forward, and Charles is in check.

"I don't have to read minds to know what you're thinking about," Erik says, and it's true; he rubs his hands together, slowly, deliberately, and then props his elbows up on the edge of the table and steeples his fingers. "But maybe you'd be interested in doing the reverse?"

// Knowing what you're thinking about by reading your mind? // Charles asks, eyes on the board. // That would be cheating. //

// Avoid the game. Trust me, I'll give you something else to listen in on. //

Erik's grinning ear-to-ear when Charles looks back up at him, and Charles shifts in his seat, clears his throat. "That _is_ cheating," he says hoarsely.

"Oh, don't be such a square," Erik says. His eyes are sparkling with humor; it's like he's daring Charles into doing it with him, right here, right now.

Charles is notoriously bad at resisting Erik's dares. He sighs, pushes his king up a square, and dives in.

// ...hands on you, mouth on you, want to taste you, kiss me... // Erik's thoughts are a swirl of words, but more than that, they're images. Things they've done. Things they've never done. Things Charles knows full well Erik wants to do, things Charles can't quite bring himself to say yes to. Not just yet, anyway.

Another image. // ...your hands, metal cuffs, holding your arms up above your head, pulling them up toward the ceiling until you're standing on your toes... //

Erik moves his rook over, attacking Charles's queen; if Charles takes Erik's rook, the queen's lost. Damn.

// ...fucking you, just the way you like, on our sides, my fingers in your mouth, my mouth on your neck or your shoulder, messy and wet and warm and perfect... //

Charles shifts his queen away, captures a pawn. Only afterwards does he realize that it leaves Erik an opening. Erik moves his rook down the board, not even using his hands this time. Normally Charles would look around, see if anyone caught that--but if anyone's watching this game, they're probably noticing the pervert with a hard-on, the one who can't stop licking his lips while he watches his "friend", not their board full of fancy trick chess pieces.

// I want to make you come, Charles. Do you think I could? Do you think I could make you come just by thinking the right thoughts at you? //

// I think if you try, it's going to be a very uncomfortable walk home, // Charles thinks, hanging on to the shreds of his dignity, forcing himself not to think the _yes-yes-yes_ at Erik that his body's wishing he would. He moves his own rook back, intercepting Erik's.

// I'd make it up to you at home, // Erik thinks. He moves his knight forward--two more moves and he'll have Charles's defending rook. Charles takes a risk and moves his other rook in to back up the first, and Erik takes his knight back. Charles grins. Maybe now he's the one with the advantage.

// You'd have to, // Charles tells him. // Because I'd be cross with you. And I'd make you start by stripping down and bending over for me. //

This time it's Erik who's shifting, Erik who's leaning forward in his chair. The images floating through Erik's mind are all of pain, heavy leather straps and thin rattan canes. They're laced with guilt, as if Charles doesn't know about those fantasies already. As if he hasn't seen them all before.

// The cane, I think. And you know why, don't you? // He holds the image of the cane in his mind: two feet long, narrow, handle made of leather.

// No metal, // Erik thinks, thoughts gone a little whispery around the edges.

// No metal, // Charles confirms. He edges his rook forward; Erik wipes his palms on his trousers and moves his knight again, for the third time in a row. For an instant, it looks as though he's completely forgotten what his strategy might have been. // You can't stop me, // Charles thinks, and he pushes a lone pawn up two spaces.

Erik runs one hand down his cheek. The chess pieces vibrate; one of the captured pieces tips over. "Charles," he whispers.

"Do you want to go home?"

"I _want_ \--" Erik's thoughts are jumbled, now, full of things he wants. Charles and the cane, perfect bright pain striking him over and over. Being deep inside Charles, whispering absolutely filthy things into the back of Charles's neck, making Charles sob with want before finally letting him come. The tip of his tongue dipping under Charles's foreskin, the way it tastes when Charles comes in his mouth, the way Charles's balls tighten up when Erik's stroking him off, Erik bending Charles over the edge of the bed and fucking him, Charles with his head buried in their pillows, trying not to scream--

Charles jumps, hitting his knee on the underside of the table, and he twists in on himself, turning away from the walkway, face tight and tense, holding his breath through it. Pulse after pulse, image after image, and it _is_ going to be uncomfortable walking home, just like he knew it would be.

He catches his breath after, and when he turns back to face the table, Erik's gathering up the chess pieces.

"Home, then," Erik says cheerfully.

Charles looks down at his lap ruefully, hoping the stain won't soak through for a while yet.

"You owe me," he murmurs.

"I'm good for it," Erik promises. He offers Charles a hand up, and Charles's legs are shaky enough that he takes it.

 _-end-_


End file.
